Grendel: For Love of the Devil
by IntrovertedVengeance
Summary: Grendel Ajax: Among the few Grendel still alive. He is only alive because he has no other emotion past the killing and the search for the one thing that will give him rest.
1. Introduction

**NOTE:** The Grendel series was originally created and owned by Matt Wagner. It still is owned by Matt Wagner. This is just a story that I have been cooking up for awhile.

**Prologue**

**1:24 Outpost 12, District 27**

The desert air was always cold this time of night. Lance hated it. Hot during the day, cold during the night. What kinda bullshit was this? When he lived in an area it should be hot all the time or cold all the time. Unfortunately the TechnoArmy placement office didn't give a flying shit where _you _wanted to be. Nor did they provide uniforms for different climates. "Uniformity is what we are, we want to be able to recognize our allies and shoot our enemies," Drill Sergeant Paxton used to say. Unfortunately the grey and green plate armor did not assist in climate control. Nor did it help much in his current predicament.

"Going in to use the toilet, Commander," Lance stated through his com mic.

"Negative, Soldier," replied the harsh voice of Commander Slone, "use a bush."

"Yes, sir." _You asshole. _

After climbing down from his wall post, Lance quickly found a bush of reasonable size and started to give it the best watering it has had in weeks.

It took him a second to realize that the headlight of a motor cycle was on him.

---------------------------

"Private Lance, Have you returned to your post?" Slone shouted.

"_Probably went to the bar Commander,_" Private Wilkins replied, _"There isn't a thing out here."_

"Private, you just earned yourself a week in solitary once your shift is up."

"_Yes, sir."_

Slone walked out to the West Wall of the outpost to find out where Lance had wandered off to. Suddenly a green light on his forearm pad went off. He opened it up and read the information. The entry on West Wall had been opened. _What the hell? _

Nobody went through that door at this time of night.

Slone leaned over the rail to see what had entered.

The open door showed nothing except the cold night desert.

"Going down to investigate, be prepared to sound the alarm."

"_Roger."_

---------------------------

Nexilas watched the chaos ensue from her spot high up on the rocks. To most this looked like she was eating her meal while gazing off into the night. To her this was like a romantic dinner for two. Her and her one true love, Grendel Ajax. While she was eating a portable soup, Grendel was feasting on the bloodshed of those poor hapless souls on Outpost 12. She truly loved him. Shame he won't find what he's looking for in there. She touched her chest and her heart fluttered a little. Then she heard the motorcycle start again and as the lights of the cycle roared off the wall a massive explosion erupted from the outpost. She quickly finished her meal and packed up into her hovercraft. This place would be searched soon.


	2. The Devil You Know

**Chapter 1**

**The Devil You Know**

**6:39am Outpost 12, District 27**

Mornings suck. Especially in the desert. Here they are cold and unforgiving. Nothing can get rid of the cold. Not a hot shower, not the heater of the hovercraft, and not even the pills Alex takes to wake him up. Later, almost without warning it will get so blistering hot he will wish the cold back again. But, one extreme to the other is what you get out here. He should move to L.A. Out there all you have to deal with is politicians. Maybe that's why he stayed in the desert.

Alex Jones had been called at three in the morning to come to O-12 to investigate an explosion. After popping down three green pills to start his system he got into his blue h-craft and sped off towards O-12. Alex was careful not to drift close to any of the outcamps that generally held people of . . . hostile intent.

The outpost came into view up ahead. The place had been blown to shit. Alex hated his mind. Within seconds of spotting the place he had already decided the entrance and exit points as well as what kinds of explosives were used and how long this place has been burning. Son of a bitch. The first person to meet him at the front gate was among the last people in the world he wanted to see.

"Detective Mantovani, what, the fuck, are you doing here?"

Josef Mantovani was legend for cracking the biggest heist ever to hit New Orleans. He walked into a building with over a hundred Grendel Vampires and came out with out a scratch. Back then he was merely a private investigator, but afterwards he had decided to rejoin the force. He is old now, probably in his 70's, but he still is among the best in the business.

"Sorry to disturb your 'peaceful rest', Jones," Mantovani replied in the Louisiana accent he got from spending all that time in Orleans, "but I'm here because I have slightly more. . . experience in this matter than you do, and they thought you might need my help."

"What do you mean?" Alex replied. _What would he have more experience with than me?_

Mantovani simply turned around and led the way. Alex Jones had no real dislike for the man past he just really creeped him out. Ever since he first met him, he always wore a white suit. It was if he was putting out a 'holier than thou' appearance. And the silver left hand that glinted in the sunlight didn't assist the matter. He lost his left hand in some case years ago; it's all in the file. He was always somewhat distrusting of these people that were part machine. Theoretically it was meant to give those who were disadvantaged such as blind in one eye or lose a limb back what they lost, but they were now somehow superior. Not only could they now see through that blind eye, they could see further, see through walls, make analyses. Now could they not only have their hand back, it was now quicker, stronger, and unbreakable. To top it all off Mantovani had this haircut that one side of his head was bald while the other 75 of his head had a full amount of hair, which had long ago gone grey. Creepy, I tell ya.

"What are we dealing with here?" Alex shouted to his departing back.

"If you just follow me, you'll get your fill of answers," Mantovani replied without turning even slightly.

New town, new story, new plan. Nexilas sauntered down the town not even trying to hide her figure. She was a gift to the eyes and she knew it. From the jeans that were half an inch from showing her assets to the world to the simple fishnet that served as her shirt. Modesty had long ago fled this world. This was the post Christian era following Pope Innocent IV, who made the Spanish Inquisition look like a casual chat, and his downfall at the hands of Orion Assante and the Grendel that had sparked Orion's envisioning of the Grendel elite. Soon Grendel was a name closely meaning soldier which is more closely related to the NAVY SEALS of old earth. This was the age where people did what they wanted and the words 'survival of the fittest' never had more meaning. Nex was used to getting what she needed; even if she had to use her . . . gifts to get them. She never had much money, never needed it really. With her figure and willingness, she wouldn't starve. If nothing else she had friends. Whisper a name and instant credit card.

Nex hadn't slept all night and her food was gone from the soup she had. She decided to find shelter and food. The local bar was letting out its crowd and she hoped to find someone to give her a night's stay. She walked in and scanned the crowd. Some big guys looked at her and motioned to their buddies. Some others were just too plain drunk to look up or even care. Her eyes locked on a scrawny little blonde guy who was probably early twenties. He would glance over nervously and hope that she didn't notice him looking, taking in of much her breasts through the fishnet shirt with his glancing over and pretending to look at the clock. The clock was broken. This was the one.

Nex walked right up to him and asked, "Scuse me, babe, but is this seat taken?"

And seeming to have completely forgotten the English language he sputtered something incoherent and simply gestured to the seat. She sat down and slightly leaned into him for a second and then pulled back. She simply smiled.

The security room was among the few places that hadn't been completely destroyed, because it was separate from the main building of the outpost. It was actually located closer to the east wall and was almost blast proof. Almost wasn't quite enough. Whatever force of hell that had come through this place had in fact found the underground security depot and made a good attempt at destroying the place.

"So what is supposed to be here?" inquired a very annoyed Alex Jones.

"Well the beauty of this security depot is that they take very good care of their footage," Mantovani lectured, " they store the footage discs about 50 feet below this room and we can access any of the discs from this terminal," he said as he waved his hand across a charred computer panel. Alex merely raised an eyebrow. Fortunately one of the screens appeared to be working.

"Okay I want you to bring up the security footage from earlier about," Alex thought for a moment, "1:20am."

The screen lit up as one of technicians began to bring up the file. Soon the scene flickered in on a green tinted entrance way. After fast forwarding a little the gate opened. The was nothing for about thirty seconds until a TechnoArmy Commander moved into the scene. He was carrying his Assault Rifle at the ready. The clock read 1:24am.

Suddenly the commander was lit up as a light hit him. Before he could even get off a shot a man on what appeared to be a 22nd century motor cycle shot through and wielding a blade quick as lightning lopped off the commander's head. It happened so quickly blood didn't even spurt out for a second. In the back ground you could see the lights of rifle fire and the occasional blood splatter. Then the cat walk, having been shot up from the shots of dead men, gave way and collapsed to form a ramp. After some more shooting and splatters, motorcycle came back into view. Now the rider was armed with an assault rifle. The rider turned back to fire a few rounds into those who would attempt to pursue him. He then drove straight off the cat walk and flew into the night as the bomb blew behind him and sent everyone to hell. The time was 1:26am. Two minutes of hell.

"Rewind the video," Mantovani ordered. The video rewound to just before the jump when he had turned to fire, "Stop and zoom in."

He looked huge. Had to be about 6'7 250lbs minimum. He wore leather combat boots and pants with a vest that had spikes on the shoulders and a white shirt and big black gloves. But what caught Alex's attention was the black mask with white eyes. The white eyes of the devil, himself.

Alex whispered one word that spoke volumes about his new case.

_ "Grendel . . ."_


End file.
